What We Are
by Song of the Lark
Summary: "Your memories..." The way he says it, the way he hunches into himself, brows furrowed and eyes boring holes into his folding, unfolding hands, makes Tadashi feel like he's toeing some line that he's not yet ready to cross. Like he's testing the waters. Like he's readying himself for an explosion. "...They're gone, Dashi. Three years worth if I'm right."
1. Chapter 1

"Being human means asking the questions of one's own being and living under the impact of the answers given to this question. And, conversely, being human means receiving answers to the questions of one's own being and asking questions under the impact of the answers."

– Paul Tillich, _Systematic Theology_

* * *

The world Tadashi wakes up to is not the one he remembers.

That much is clear the moment he opens his eyes to find everything in his line of sight distorted, from the books stacked precariously atop each other on his bedroom floor to the night stand jutting out its hip to the right of his elbow, elongating and curving ever so slightly outward each time he shifts his gaze.

And it's _sickening_.

His head aches, his eyes sting, his stomach churns. Without a second thought, Tadashi squeezes his eyes shut and curls up on his side, sputtering out harsh, shallow breaths and clawing at his arms, trying to hold himself together, trying to make sure he doesn't _lose it_ , because, _damn it_ , he doesn't have the strength to deal with _any_ –

"Tadashi?"

Annnnd, someone's calling him.

Tadashi burrows himself further under the covers, trying to make himself as small as possible, and prays to God they'll _go away_.

"Tadashi!"

No such luck.

Slowly (so he doesn't heave last night's dinner all over his chest), Tadashi opens one bleary eye and parts his lips, ready to snarl out a scathing " _What?_ " when the word suddenly dies in his throat.

That _face_.

The thick lashes that frame those large brown eyes, the soft curves of his cheeks that narrow to a point at his chin–those are definitely _his_. Tadashi's traced that face with his eyes and fingers too many times to _not_ realize it's–

"Hi...ro?"

Tadashi carefully pushes himself up onto his elbows, mindful of the way his vision dances and flickers when he moves too quickly, then leans back against the headboard; it's a struggle to keep his head up, so he lets it fall limp on his shoulder.

"Thank God," Hiro breathes. His body practically sinks into the sigh. "You're awake."

But the relief doesn't last.

Within seconds, the lines on his face shift, with mountains becoming plains and plains becoming mountains. He's morphed into an irate cat, shoulders tense and claws burying into the fabric of his jeans. Tadashi can practically see the pressed back ears and the stark black tail lashing out at him.

"You _idiot_ ," Hiro hisses. There's no time to respond before he pounces into a series of questions that spin his head in circles: "What did you think you were doing? Why'd you step in like that? I had everything under control, but you just–"

"What..." He winces. The word comes out hoarse and raspy and too high pitched to be his. "...are you talking about?"

Hiro's cheeks glow like an ember. "What am I _talking_ about? What do you mean, ' _what am I_ –'" He falters and slowly, silently mouths the rest of the question. His reaction is instantaneous. "You don't know, do you?"

Tadashi hesitates then averts his gaze without a word, but that's all the confirmation he needs.

"Tadashi." Hiro speaks his name slowly, deliberately, demanding attention. It's a tone he recognizes immediately, having often heard parents deliver stern reprimands to their children in the same voice, but has never had it directed towards himself, and the sheer surprise of it makes him look up.

But the moment he does, he's completely trapped. It's not the hands gripping his upper arms that keep him grounded there, immobile.

No. It's the nature of Hiro's gaze, heavy and suffocating and far more intense and calculating than it should be. His breath stills.

"Listen." Fingers bite into his skin, forcing him to focus. "This is important. What is the last thing you remember?"

Those words are the trigger for a point deep in his skull, just a fingernail's distance away from his right brow, to pound so violently that images explode behind his eyes:

Hiro.

Microbots.

 _Fire._

He gasps, and his eyes snap open–when did they even _close_?–and dart around the room, scanning for signs of _cooked flesh, blackened faces, blood-curdling screams_ –

He shudders. Quiet and disturbed, he rasps, "The SFIT expo."

Silence. Then:

"Oh, no."

Tadashi blinks rapidly as his vision focuses Hiro. He's slumped back into his seat, his hand covering his mouth and his face a sickly, ashen color.

Panic rises in his chest. "Hiro, what...?"

 _What's going on? What happened? Why are you acting like this?_ He tries to force the words out, but it's like prying open a rusty door. All that comes out is a pitiful croaking noise in the back of his throat.

Thankfully, Hiro seems to have gotten the message because he rolls his head to the side and gives him a tired, sidelong look. There are dark half moons outlining his eyes, like bruises, and a downward tilt to his lips that was never there before.

"You want to know what happened?" There's no bite to his words. Just exhaustion.

Tadashi hesitates. The chill hasn't left him yet, and there's this sense of dread expanding in his stomach, filling up his lungs, and squeezing his chest–a warning. Still, he nods, a curt jerk of his head.

As if he had expected it, Hiro pulls his face into a slight frown and then gnaws at his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. He's stringing Tadashi's nerves together, plucking them to his tune without even realizing it. The pauses make his heart beat faster, the darting eyes make him breathless, and the wringing hands make sweat bead across his temple.

He swallows. His adam's apple bobs up and down his throat.

"Your memories..." The way he says it, the way he hunches into himself, brows furrowed and eyes boring holes into his folding, unfolding hands, makes Tadashi feel like he's toeing some line that he's not yet ready to cross. Like he's testing the waters. Like he's readying himself for an explosion. "...They're gone, Dashi. Three years worth if I'm right."

Oh. _Oh_. Tadashi inhales sharply. _Three years?_

 _Oh, God._

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story, and please leave a review! I'm curious to know what you think of the descriptions, the flow of the chapter, etc. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

In hindsight, he should've known Hiro wouldn't answer him. It's what he always does–deflect his question with a question of his own or lie to him with a straight face.

This time is no exception.

Shortly after revealing the truth, Hiro forced him back to sleep. All questions were ignored, held off by the promise of _Tomorrow, I swear_ being repeated multiple times before Tadashi finally relented and fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Maybe he really did intend to tell him, but when Tadashi wakes up in the morning, calling out "Hiro?" that's not what happens.

Hiro whips his head around, blinking owlishly at the call of his name. He's sitting at his desk just across from him typing away at his laptop. He swings his chair around, with a teasing smile on his lips. "Yes, Sleeping Beauty?"

"It's tomorrow."

The smile falters. "Right," Hiro mutters. He glances at the clock. "But not now."

"Hiro..."

"I _know, a_ nd I will–but not now. I have class. I'll talk– _l_ _ater_." He breezes through his words, short, clipped, concise.

Tadashi purses his lips. "Yeah? Well, I'll come with you." He pushes himself up on his elbows and swings his legs over the bed's edge. "Maybe I'll–"

"No!"

He tenses up. It isn't the shout that alarms him, but the wild, fearful look in Hiro's eyes.

"No, just–just _don't_ , okay? You're still hurt. You need to rest." He hangs his head and his bangs sweep across his eyes. Quietly, he says, "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

Tadashi feels himself softening against his will at his brother's hushed admission. Hiro _never_ worries about him like this. He usually gets eye rolls, punches to the shoulder, or even a gruff, "Be more careful, dummy." This change, it's–dare he say it?–heartwarming.

He sinks into the mattress and huffs, but that fond look isn't fooling anyone. "Alright...I won't."

A large, toothy grin breaks out across Hiro's face. "Great!"

Tadashi doesn't even have to register what that smile means when Hiro suddenly launches into a flurry of activity, sweeping across the room to his desk, swiping his pack and books, and flying out the door, calling in a rush over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a few hours. Lunch is on the desk. Grab it when you're hungry!"

Not a second later, Hiro pops his head into the room and waves a small goodbye. "Almost forgot. I'll see ya later, nerd!" Then, the door slams close, and...

Silence.

Tadashi stares at space that Hiro had just occupied and blinks once...twice...thrice. When he finally wraps his head around what just happened, he can't help it; his lips curve into a thin smile.

 _Mischievous little brat.  
_

Hiro wants him to rest? Fine. Tadashi throws back the covers, slides out of bed, and pads over to the door. He'll limit himself to exploring his new (old?) home; that's not too strenuous, right?

Right.

Tadashi pushes down the handle.

 _Click_. He pauses and tries again. _Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclick._

His breath stills.

 _Locked_.

 _An accident?_

He immediately discards the thought. There's no way Hiro could have "accidentally" locked the door. This type of door requires a key, he notes, squatting low for inspection, and keys don't lock doors themselves. It's intentional.

 _But why?_

A chill settles in his heart. It's obvious. Hiro doesn't trust him.

 _Not that he should_ , a voice in his head whispers. _He was right._ _You're doing exactly what he told you not to do_ _.  
_

 _But that's no excuse to lock me in,_ he hisses back. _It's uncalled for._

So he'll give Hiro a reason.

Mind set, Tadashi shifts his gaze to the window. He stalks towards it. Once there, he leans out to scan his surroundings. Third floor. No trees in sight. There's a balcony a little ways off that he can probably reach if he's _really_ careful. But still, it's not the best way to escape–not unless he's desperate or suicidal.

He glances over his shoulder. The room is sparse, save for the few pieces of furniture and taped down cardboard boxes. A quick once-over has him sighing–no tools.

Tadashi's eyes shift, and he trudges over to the one place he had ignored during his initial search–his last hope. He hadn't thought to check it, assuming it would lead to a dead end, but...Just to be sure, he tries the handle. His brows shoot up immediately. No resistance. His heartbeats quicken. He gives it a push, and it's the...

Bathroom.

Tadashi visibly deflates–only to perk up again when he sees a door on the other side of the blue carpeted toilet. When he throws it open, he's greeted by the sight of a few opened boxes and clothes strewn across a twin-sized bed.

Hiro's room.

His eyes catch sight of a red blob. He turns to look. It's small, about the size of a tool box, and–wait. _Wait_. Isn't that Baymax's docking station?

He treads over to where the box leans against the wall and kneels down, giving it a closer look. Yup. It's him. But what's he doing here? Baymax is his prized creation. He wouldn't just _leave_ him here.

"Ow."

Just like he was programmed to, Baymax inflates and blinks upon activation. He waves. "Hello, I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to the need for medical attention when you said 'Ow.'" Ten faces ranging from smiley to clearly pained appear on his chest. "On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

"Zero. Now, why–"

"I will scan you now."

"That's not necessary. I–"

"Scan complete."

Tadashi slaps his forehead and groans. "I forgot how _pushy_ you were."

A long silence. "I am sorry."

He looks up. Baymax's head is tilted–a clear sign of confusion.

"I am unable to access your medical information."

 _What?_

"That can't be right." Tadashi circles his creation, inspecting and prodding it with his eyes.

 _Scanner problems?_

He must've tampered with the program; whenever he does, he'd unfortunately create bugs in other places, which would sometimes leave Baymax unable to access new medical information. Since Baymax identifies patients based on their medical information, not their appearance, it would be impossible to recognize Tadashi.

Just to double-check, he extends his arms out and asks, "Do you know who I am?"

Baymax tilts his head. "No."

He lets his arms drop. _Knew it._ He brushes past Baymax, intent on continuing his search. This time, he ignores the window and beelines towards the final door. A quick jerk of the handle has him sighing.

Tadashi steps away, gaze lingering, when–

"Whoa!" He bounces back a step from the recoil of Baymax's belly. "Ugh, God." He sighs for the nth time. Eyes downcast, he rubs the back of his neck and mutters, "I don't suppose you could get me out of here?"

Tadashi sighs, lifts his gaze, and _smiles_. "Whaddya say, big guy?"

Baymax blinks, considering him in silence. Then:

"I will need my armor."

A long stare. "I made you armor?"

"Hiro did; he believed it would be useful."

Tadashi makes a face. "Figures." Hiro _is_ an ex-botfighter; he's always making upgrades. "And why do you need this... _armor_?"

"It is capable of flight."

"Okay...Where can I find it?"

"Hiro typically keeps it in the basement."

" _Great_." He smacks his forehead. "How else can I leave?"

If robots could display emotion, Tadashi would recognize the mischief on his face. "I know what to do."

Tadashi continues, blissfully unaware of the approaching danger. "And what would that–Baymax? Baymax, what are you doing? Why are you picking me up? Baymax? Baymax, stop! _Baymax?_ BAYMAX!"

And out the window they go.

* * *

 **A/N: Poor Tadashi. Nothing makes sense.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh my _God_ , Baymax!" Tadashi splutters around a mouthful of leaves as he crawls out of a bush on his hands and feet and hurriedly stands up; a few leaves stick to his hair and dirt covers his clothes, but he's mostly unharmed–not that that stops him from giving Baymax the stink eye. "I know I asked for a way out, but you couldn't have picked a safer approach? You know, something other than _pushing me out the window?!_ "

Baymax–that fluffy _demonic_ marshmallow–tilts his head and blinks, just like a five-year-old would when they're playing dumb. With a matter-of-fact tone, he states, "I did not push you. I carried you."

Tadashi stares. Then, he stares some more. "Did Hiro program you to back talk people too or did I?"

Another blink. "I learned it myself."

He grunts, unsurprised. _He's been spending_ way _too much time with Hiro._ "Yeah, I'm going to go." He takes a few steps forward then points to the building behind him. "You can just...head back to the apartment, 'kay?"

Baymax waddles after him. "I cannot deactivate until you say, 'I am satisfied with my care.'"

Tadashi repeats it, absentminded; he misses how Baymax rummages around the bushes and pulls out a key before he totters toward the apartment.

 _What to do...What to do..._

...He really should've thought this through more. So absorbed in his own thoughts, he doesn't even notice his feet bringing him to the steps of the place he knows and loves best until he stops.

He looks up. And his heart stutters. _Damn_. He shouldn't be here! Hiro's at SFIT _right now._ The problems he'd run into! Tadashi groans and slaps a hand to his eyes, already imagining the reprimands and steely looks–but then he peeks through his fingers at the building.

 _As long as I don't get caught..._

With that in mind, Tadashi steps through the front doors and into the halls, passing by a few classrooms, lecture halls, and offices. He only pauses when he reaches Professor Callaghan's office, or rather, his old office. _Professor Michael Sherwood_ is now printed on the plaque beside the door along. It's an odd sight but he doesn't give it much consideration other than as a passing thought.

Tadashi picks up his pace. Down the hall from Sherwood's office is the old lab space he shared with his friends. He briefly wonders if the gang still attends SFIT; they'd be 23 now and either working or going to grad school. He hopes they're still around.

And he's not disappointed.

Tadashi leans against the doorway with a fond smile as he watches the two. Gogo is machining something and Honey Lemon is pouring chemicals into one of the clean beakers at her work station. He strides into the room and calls out.

"Hey, Gogo! Honey!"

Their heads snap up. One look at their faces has him skidding to a halt.

"...Why are you guys looking at me like that? If it's the leaves and the dirt, I can explain. See–"

"Who the heck are _you?_ "

Tadashi shoots them a funny look. "Uh, Tadashi Hamada? Is this a trick question? I mean, I know I've forgotten a lot of things, but..." He trails off at the blank looks on their faces.

"I don't know who put you up to this, but I don't care." Gogo squares her shoulders and crosses her arms over her chest; she fixes him with a pointed glare. "Leave while I'm still being nice."

Honey places her hands on Gogo's shoulders and squeezes lightly, murmuring something into her ear. Once Gogo relaxes in the other girl's hold, Honey directs her gaze to Tadashi with something akin to disgust in her usually warm brown eyes.

"You should go." Her voice is uncharacteristically cold, and it catches Tadashi completely off guard. He stares at her, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. This is _Honey Lemon_ –the friendliest girl in the world–no, the _universe_. What happened?

"But–"

Gogo twitches. In the next second, faster than he can blink, she's up in his face with her lips pulled back in a sneer and her hands fisting the lapels of his jacket. Tadashi flinches. There's something almost _feral_ in her eyes.

"Listen here, _buddy_ ," she growls, reeling him in. "What you're doing–it isn't _funny,_ so you'd better _stop_ before I _rip you a new one!_ "

"Woah woah _woah_." He puts his hands up in a placating gesture and tries to pull away from Gogo's tight grip, but only succeeds in stretching his collar. Fear flares up in his chest. "Gogo, stop! It's _me_ –Tadashi!"

Gogo snarls and slams him against the wall. His hands automatically wrap around her wrist. "I dare you to say that again!"

"Gogo–Gogo, wait!"

She pulls back her fist. "You people are sick!"

"Stop, I–IknowwhatHoneydidtoyoulastHalloween!"

Tadashi squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth for impact.

But the blow never comes.

Several heartbeats pass, but still, nothing. Slowly, hesitantly, Tadashi opens his eyes, which immediately cross at the sight of a white-knuckled fist hovering less than an inch from his nose.

" _What?_ " Her voice is flat and her eyes still hold a dangerous glint, but at least she doesn't look like she's going to punch him into oblivion anymore–not yet, at least.

Tadashi lets out a shaky breath. "Last Halloween," he repeats, slowly lowering Gogo's fist from his face, "you got drunk and passed out on the couch. Honey, she–she stuffed you into a princess costume. The really pink one with the blond curls! Uh–Aurora! That's the one. She took pictures and everything! ...Please don't hurt me."

"Tadashi!" Honey Lemon gasps. Her hands fly to her chest as a look of betrayal (and horror) crosses her face. "That was supposed to be a secret!"

Gogo releases her hold on Tadashi's collar and slowly turns around to look at girl fidgeting behind her. " _Honey?_ "

Honey jumps. "Oh, uh." In just a single moment, their roles have reversed; Honey is the prey and Tadashi the spectator. She titters but manages to keep her cool even in the face of an advancing, angry (read: potentially homicidal) Gogo–for about five seconds, anyway; she loses it when she backs up into a desk and Gogo _just keeps getting closer!_ Her hands grope at the edge of the table, supporting her suddenly wobbly legs. "See, I, um–"

He snickers.

Her eyes lock on him.

 _Uh oh._

"Tadashi!" she squeaks. Her eyes practically scream, _Do something!_

He doesn't get the chance.

 _Riiiiing!_

Gogo pauses.

 _Riiiiing!_

She straightens up and glowers at them. "This. Isn't. Over."

The hairs on the back of his neck bristle. It's just a wisp of sound but it's enough to induce chills over his skin.

She snatches up her cellphone and barks into it. "What?"

" _Gogo?_ " Hiro appears on the screen not a moment later, his face the very picture of distress. His lips are pulled into a sharp line, his brows furrowed in worry, and his eyes crinkling at the corners from strain. The image jostles constantly, up and down, up and down. " _Is...Have you seen Tadashi?_ "

" _Hiro_..." There's an edge to Gogo's voice, just short of a growl, and Tadashi is immensely glad he's not on the receiving end of _that_. "What is going on?"

" _So you have._ _Keep him there until I arrive."  
_

"Uh uh. No way. You've got some _explaining_ to do, _mister_."

 _"I'll explain later._ "

"Hiro!" Flushed cheeks, flared nostrils–yep, definitely don't want to be on the other side of that.

" _J_ _ust trust me!...Please._ "

Gogo pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales noisily. "...Fine–but don't you _dare_ leave anything out."

Hiro's expression turns grim. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, Hiro, you've got a _lot_ of explaining to do.  
**

 **...Be honest. How OOC is Tadashi?**


	4. Chapter 4

Tadashi trains his eyes on the door, pointedly ignoring the way Gogo glares at him from over the table, blowing bubbles and smacking her lips with a _pop!_ Honey, on the other hand, is biting her thumbnail while her eyes dart between them. Several pops later, Gogo rifles through her jacket pocket, pulls out a new stick of gum, and viciously rips her teeth through it. Intimidation tactic.

And, _boy_ , is it working.

Tadashi is shifting his weight from foot to foot, counting the times Gogo pops her gum in the silence, when Hiro suddenly bursts through the doors, huffing and puffing like he ran a marathon. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink and his forehead gleams with sweat. He collapses forward, hands on his knees to stabilize himself.

"What," he wheezes, "are you…doing…here?" Hiro gulps in a few more breaths, swallows, and straightens up. Little puffs of air slip past his lips and tufts of hair stick to his nose and cheeks, but it doesn't detract from the steeliness of his glare. "I thought I told you to stay put."

Tadashi shrugs, not even feeling the slightest bit of guilt.

"Hiro," Gogo cuts in. She folds her arms as she turns her glare on the smaller Hamada, clearly testy at this point. Honey says nothing, but it's clear from the way that she turns her gaze to Hiro, head tilted and brows furrowed, that she expects something as well. "Your explanation?"

Hiro, however, isn't one to comply. "Later." He waves them away and tugs on Tadashi's sleeve. "I've got to get _this_ guy"–a pointed glare–"home."

And before they have time to even blink, the boys are speeding away amidst the sounds of protests and an outraged " _Hiro!_ "

* * *

"Hiro, listen to me."

Hiro strides past him and into the living room of their apartment. It's sparsely furnished like the rest of the place, though there is one key difference: the shelves. They line every available space along the walls, with each filled to the brim with books of different heights and thicknesses. His eyes run over their spines; several are medical publications, specifically on the brain, though most are technology-related, like Callaghan's laws of robotics, AI research journals, or programming texts–many of which he's used before to create Baymax.

Tadashi tries again. "Hey."

Still, Hiro ignores him. He circles counterclockwise around the coffee table, once, twice, thrice, then stops. His head darts up and he glares at the wall before he spins on his heel to circle clockwise.

Tadashi watches him through the whole process–clockwise...counterclockwise...clockwise...counterclockwise...It's so monotonous, so repetitive that by the fourth spin he can't help but burst out.

" _Hiro_ –"

"Why did you leave?" Hiro snaps. He's stopped now, fists balled and teeth clenched. "I told you to get some rest."

Tadashi's brow quirks as he leans his full weight against the entryway to the room. He replies simply. "I know."

Hiro scoffs. "You _know_." His tone is venomous. "You know, but you still left."

No words leave his lips, but anyone can see it; fingers clenching upper arms, eyes narrowing ever so slightly–it's frustration in it's finest form, pumping his blood and tightening muscles until he's stone stiff. It's not _fair_. Hiro's the one who locked the door. If anyone should be angry, it's _him_ , not Hiro because–"You don't trust me _._ "

Hiro startles, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly; the words are blatant, with absolutely no sugar coating or detours to cushion the impact of the truth.

"You _don't,_ " he repeats. His voice is softer now, but no less intense. "You proved it yourself." Tadashi breathes in heavily as he steps past the entryway. He strides forward closer and closer until he's only a hair's breadth away. "The door." He juts his chin out at it, gaze never wavering; Hiro's eyes follow the movement. "You didn't trust me to stay put so you locked it. _Why?_ "

Hiro bites his lip and looks away. After a moment of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"I know you, Dashi," he starts off. His tone is slick, controlled, without even the slightest hint of emotion. "And I know you're not the type to sit still when you could be helping a little old lady cross the street or something."

Tadashi opens him mouth to protest, but a withering look silences him.

"Oh, don't even _think_ about denying it," he growls. All semblance of peace is gone now, and all that's left is frustration and anger. "You know you would. Hell, you'd run into a _burning building_ if it meant saving someone!"

Tadashi swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. He's speechless. He doesn't know what to say, not to the red cheeked, sour faced Hiro whose fists tremble so hard at his sides that even pressing them into his ribs won't make them stop. He moistens his lips. It feels almost...untrue to deny it.

It's only when he averts his gaze, landing on the unobtrusive brass handle that he finds his voice again. His stare is as hard as his tone. "That doesn't change anything. All it proves is that you don't trust me at all."

Hiro scowls at the ground. "I _do_ trust you." He scuffs the heel of his foot against the floorboards. "Locking the door was _supposed_ to be insurance."

Tadashi's eyes narrow as he sets his jaw. "Insurance that you didn't need." He stares Hiro down, stern and cold, while the younger glowers back. It's a standoff, a competition to see who will be the first to give in. Hiro is stubborn...but so is Tadashi, and he can be _very_ intimidating when he wants to be.

He's not disappointed.

It takes all of thirty seconds before Hiro breaks down. His hands hold tight to his upper arms, hugging them close to his body, and his face contorts in pain. He looks so vulnerable at that moment; it's nearly impossible to tell that this is the same boy who stood his ground against a mob of gangsters after cheating them out of money.

"I don't want to fight with you," he finally admits.

The words, the sight–it brings Tadashi to his proverbial knees. He never could be harsh with Hiro; it's some sort of protective instinct that he can't get rid of, not after the accident that stole away his parents and almost took his little brother too.

He heaves out a long sigh. Why did he think this time would be any different? "I don't want to either."

There's another moment of silence as the words hang in the air, though this one is not nearly as hostile as before; it's gentle and contemplative, the type to lull you to sleep–a comfort. And it's not words that break the stillness this time, but action.

Hiro throws himself into Tadashi's arms, his hands automatically wrapping around the elder's neck and their bodies flush against each other's.

Tadashi inhales sharply, hands frozen at his sides. They're close, true, but they don't often express their affection with hugs. It's usually friendly punches to the shoulder, smiles, or the occasional fist bump. Even so, the touch isn't unwelcome.

Slowly, his breath starts to flow, his joints loosen, and his hands reach out for him, wrapping loosely around the boy's waist, and he lets go, of himself, of everything as he sinks into Hiro's embrace.

...But it's all _wrong._ A distraction.

He nuzzles his face into Hiro's neck and breathes into it, "You still haven't answered my question."

Hiro's breath hitches when air tickles his skin, but gives no verbal response. Instead, he digs his fingers into his shoulders. Encouragement–that's what it is.

And Tadashi wastes no time. He takes in a deep breath and lets it all out. "What happened to me?"

* * *

 **A/N: You guys don't know how** _ **happy**_ **you make me. Every time I get a review, favorite, or follow, I just can't stop smiling. Seriously. You guys just make my day.**

 **I thought about including romance, but as it's not necessary to the plot, I figured I'd leave it up to you guys to decide. Anyone interested?**

 **Hiro will definitely explain things next chapter, but I'd love to your thoughts on what might have happened!**


	5. Chapter 5

There is silence on both ends; one side is expectant, and the other reluctant.

Slowly, Hiro releases his hold on Tadashi's neck and pulls back from his arms, though he remains close enough that the link around his waist remains unbroken; his eyes are fixed solely on the other's chest.

"What are you talking about?"

Tadashi furrows his brows. He should've known this wouldn't be easy. His face turns stern now and his hands tighten around his brother's waist. "You can't avoid this forever, Hiro. You owe me an explanation." An audible pause. Then: "What happened to me?"

Hiro shrugs, and his gaze drops to his feet now. "...I don't even know where to begin," he admits.

With those words, Tadashi hums softly and rests his chin atop Hiro's head. One of his hands finds its way into the boy's hair, smoothing out the tangles and knots as the other one presses against the small of his back, dragging him in again.

Hiro doesn't resist the touch; instead, he leans into it, seeking out the warmth and affection that Tadashi constantly provides.

"How about the beginning?" he suggests. His fingers massage Hiro's scalp, drawing lazy circles and swirls over and over and over. "How did I lose my memory?"

Another shrug. "You hit your head."

Tadashi sighs and smothers the sound into the boy's long locks. "That's not _enough_ ," he mumbles; his voice is muffled by hair. How is he supposed to figure anything out with a half-assed answer like that? "More."

Now it's Hiro's turn to groan. "Look"–he pulls away again to stare him in the eye; there's a flash of irritation in his tone–"can we talk about this later?"

"No."

"Dashi–"

"No."

He sweeps his bangs back with his palm and huffs. " _Seriously_ –"

"No."

"Fine!" Hiro snarls. His fingers dig into Tadashi's chest and his eyes tighten around the edges. His breath brushes against his lips, they're so close now. "You _really_ want to know?"

Tadashi has no time to even give some form of confirmation before Hiro launches into his explanation.

"We were moving into the apartment. Those bookshelves"–he jabs his thumb behind him, indicating the room they'd just left–"yeah, one of them _fell over_. I was going to get hit. You pushed me out of the way. Got knocked out. _End of story_." Hiro grits his teeth, nostrils flaring. His voice practically drips with acid. " _Happy_ now?"

Tadashi hesitates.

 _It does make sense_ , the voice in his head admits. _The cardboard boxes. The lack of furniture. Everything adds up, but..._

He shakes his head.

That can't be it–or at least, not all of it. Hiro wouldn't have avoided the topic if that was everything. He'd be straightforward about it. This isn't something worth hiding...so what isn't he telling him?

"No," Tadashi says. He ignores the exasperated huff and continues, "No, I'm not."

Hiro scoffs. " _I told you_ –"

"Yes, you did," Tadashi acknowledges. His hands slide up his chest to grip those twin palms fisting his shirt. "But you're not telling me everything. I want the _whole_ story."

Hiro's face visibly drops and his lower lip trembles. "You…" He shifts from foot to foot, struggling with whatever he's about to say. His eyes drift to the area beside Tadashi's shoulder, suddenly glassy with this faraway look. "…left. For a long time. About three years." He rubs his upper arm, absentminded. "You got a job overseas and dumped us here. No phone calls, no emails–nothing. You didn't even give us an address," he mumbles.

Tadashi blinks, his mouth opening in shock. Well, that's...not what he was expecting. Of all the things Hiro could have said, he dumps _this_ on him. Unbelievable.

"You're kidding, right?"

He forces out a chuckle, short and curt, because there's _no way_ that can be true. Tadashi would _never_ do that in a million years. The most powerful company in the world could offer him a position and he'd _still_ have to think about it. His family and friends are just too precious to him, and he'd be a fool to give them up.

"Why would I leave without a saying _anything_?"

Bushy hair tickles his skin as Hiro leans into his chest, and a sigh brushes against his collarbone. "I don't know." The words are murmured into his skin and leave a surge of disappointment to settle in his chest.

Tadashi lets out a breath in disbelief and holds Hiro close by the elbows. He pulls him back to look him in the eyes, but Hiro doesn't meet his gaze. "Why did I come back?"

"I don't know," he whispers, voice cracking at the end.

Tadashi has no chance to push for answers. Without so much as a warning, Hiro rips himself out of his arms, head lowered, eyes hidden, and fingers biting into his forearms.

"I've gotta go," he mumbles under his breath. He takes rough, jerky steps to the door, as if he's restraining himself from breaking out into a run. But once he reaches the doorway, he pauses, then tilts his head in Tadashi's direction. His face isn't fully visible; only the side profile of his red rimmed eyes and downward quirk of his lips can be seen. "Get some rest." There are tears in his voice, and then even his face can't be seen as he turns and speeds out the room.

Moments later, Tadashi hears the slam of the front door and knows that Hiro is gone. He doesn't bother to chase after him; it's clear that Hiro needs time to himself...and so does he if he's being honest.

He collapses at the edge of his mattress and stares down at his tightly clenched fists. When he unfurls his fingers, there's a dull ache then a sensation of pinpricks as the blood rushes back to hands; he didn't even realize he was using so much force until he lets go. He sighs and wallows in his thoughts.

Why did he leave? Why did he come back? Why didn't he contact anyone? Why? Why? _Why_?

Tadashi swallows down the lump in his throat. How could he have left the people he loves so dearly? Hiro and Aunt Cass and Gogo and–

And _Honey_.

His heart constricts in his chest and his breaths quicken; guilt pools up in his airways and weighs him down, leaden and heavy.

Oh, God, _Honey_. She looked at him like he was a monster, like he'd told her he had slaughtered a thousand puppies and recorded their cries to lull himself to sleep at night. And that–that _hurts_.

Tadashi has always liked Honey; yes, she's the first friend he found at SFIT, the first girl he's ever felt comfortable enough to share his secrets, but she's so much more than that. Honey Lemon is someone he can picture himself together with in the future, surrounded by a few brown haired, brown eyed children with her smile (his favorite part of her) and his eyes.

He turns his head and lightly palms his chest, the area where his heart should be. Tomorrow, he decides as he stares at the empty walls. Tomorrow, he's going to get to the bottom of things.

* * *

 **A/N: I haven't fully decided on adding romance yet, but since someone did request Tadahoney, I'll try to write some in; however, this pairing is not concrete.  
**

 **So, what do you think of the explanation? Makes sense?**


	6. Chapter 6

Hiro doesn't come home that night.

Tadashi isn't sure if it's because of him (it probably is) but his heart is sick with worry regardless. In his mind, Hiro isn't a seventeen-year-old boy who's capable(?) of protecting himself; he's the fourteen-year-old troublemaker from his memories who still needs Tadashi to rescue him.

He stays up the whole night, sitting on the sofa, hands clenched and teeth gritted, as he wills the door to open. It's just when light breaks through and his eyes are drooping and his shoulders sagging that he sees through blurry vision a fuzzy creature enveloped in a harsh glow.

The figure comes a bit closer, but it's shadowed and Tadashi can't keep his eyes open any longer so he lets himself fall.

* * *

Tadashi jolts awake, with his pulse rising and his chest heaving. His senses, which were working in overdrive, slow when nothing alarming sticks out to him. It's only when the scent of burnt eggs and coffee waft under his nose that he forces himself to his feet. A baby blue blanket slides off his shoulders and pools at his ankles.

"Morning, Dashi," Hiro chirps from in front of the frying pan. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

Tadahi's whole body sags with relief. "Hiro." He rises from the couch and makes his way to his little brother. "You're back."

Hiro hums softly in acknowledgment. "I got back this morning." With his plastic spatula, he points to the kitchen table. "Take a seat."

Tadashi shuffles towards the table and pulls out one of the chairs. The table is already set, and there's not much to do except wait. He can be patient, but there's worry gnawing at his stomach, demanding answers.

Over the sound of sizzling bacon, he finally speaks up. "Where were you last night? I waited for you."

He's not sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he thinks he sees Hiro tense up for a moment. But just as suddenly as that thought registers in his head, the tension is gone. "I went back to the lab. Couldn't sleep. Thought I might as well get some work done."

They stew in silence for a little longer. He can't seem to bring himself to say anything yet.

A few minutes have passed when Hiro finally flicks off the stove and brings the iron pan over to where Tadashi is sitting. His mouth is curled into a sheepish grin, and he pushes the burnt eggs and bacon onto his plate. "It's not as good as yours, but I tried."

Tadashi stares at the plate in silence and makes no move for it until Hiro is situated across from him with his own plate. He takes a fork in hand but otherwise makes no move to eat. He knows he should be hungry–he hasn't eaten anything since perhaps lunch yesterday–but he can't seem to stomach anything right now.

"Hiro, about last night–"

Hiro stands up abruptly, shaking the table and sending the silverware clanging against his plate. Tadashi flinches at the loud sound and looks up at him with wide eyes.

"I have class now," his little brother mutters. He spares him a glance. "I'll see you later." With two long strides, he's at the door, bag in hand and jacket in his arms.

"Oh, later." But the words don't make it out of his mouth in time. Hiro is gone, and the slam of the door echoes behind in his ears.

Tadashi pokes at his egg with his fork and watches the yoke run out. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the meaning behind his words. _Don't ask_. _I don't want to talk about it_.

He sinks into the back of his chair and drops his fork into his plate, letting it clatter to a standstill. A long sigh escapes him as he thinks back to last night's confession.

He lost his memory from a bookcase falling on him? Fine. He'll accept that. But leaving for three years without a single explanation? That isn't something he would _ever_ do in a million years. He knows himself, and he knows that his family and friends are irreplaceable to him. He'd sooner die than leave them, which leaves only two possibilities: one, Tadashi, for some inconceivable reason, really did leave, or two, Hiro is still lying to him.

The former option, he concedes, is a possibility. The only reason he would willingly choose to cut off all contact would be if someone close to him were being threatened and the only way to protect them would be to leave. But he was only a normal, albeit more intelligent than average, college student. Why would anyone want to threaten him? It just seems too impossible to accept.

And even if (and that's a really _big_ if) on the off chance he really did leave, there is no reason why he would willingly return. If he left to protect someone, he would not risk coming back, not unless the threat was gone. This further begs the questions of who the threat is and why there is no longer a threat.

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. There are too many questions that follow the first possibility, which could only have happened on the assumption that he left to protect someone. This possibility is very thin and not probable at all.

His reasoning leads him to consider that perhaps Hiro has not told him the truth yet.

Firstly, if he truly did leave and everyone knew, why would Hiro want to keep this from him in the first place? If it were truly common knowledge, then there would be no point in hiding it because _everyone_ already knows. Someone would tell him and then there would be no secret. It'd be an exercise in futility.

Secondly, Hiro had locked his bedroom door, saying that he had wanted him to get some rest and that this was his way of insuring that that would happen. Tadashi doesn't believe that. You _don't_ lock someone in their room with a reason like that. You lock them in to either protect them from others or to protect others from _them_. Neither option would really support the first possibility of him leaving. If the threat were gone, there would be no reason for him to be hidden away in his bedroom. So perhaps he was locked in for a different reason.

Lastly, Gogo had seemed particularly adamant that Hiro explain _som_ _ething_ to her. What could possibly be needed to be explained if she already knew about his three-year disappearance? If Hiro was determined to tell him that he didn't understand the reason behind Tadashi's disappearance nor reappearance then there isn't much he could say to Gogo. Clearly she is in the dark about something too, and that something might be the real truth.

Tadashi pushes off his chair, letting it squeal across the wooden floor boards, and makes his way over to his room where he knows he left his laptop.

None of the evidence seems to really point to the first possibility, which means that Hiro must have lied to him once more.

This is only conjecture though, and no conjecture can be stated as fact without proof. And so, he sits down at his desk and he does his research.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! I'm really sorry for the late update. I just finished my first year of college, and things were a busier than I anticipated. I got really focused on my work and got writer's block too. In addition, I've also lost a lot of my initial enthusiasm for BH6, which is why I couldn't post up a new chapter until now. (My new obsession is YOI, by the way, and I hope to post a story for that soon.)  
**

 **Hopefully, this chapter isn't too horrible. I tried to write out Tadashi's thought process and analysis on Hiro's supposed 'explanation,' and this is what I came up with. I think it makes sense, but what do you guys think?  
**

 **Please, please, please review! I'm really happy for the favs and follows, but I do want some form of written reassurance and comments for improvement. If it's not too much trouble, I'd love to hear what you think on pacing, pairings, etc.**


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